


Flirting With Disaster

by samhaindancer



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And onto Bucky, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Is Also Hot, Clint Is a Good Bro, Confused Bucky, Eve has commitment issues, Eve is gonna have to get over it, F/M, Fluff, Implied Smut, Miscommunication, Smut, Thank God for Clinton Barton's Advice, bucky is adorable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6463249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samhaindancer/pseuds/samhaindancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky might have some things figured out; he's free of Hydra and fighting with the Avengers rather than against him. What he doesn't have figured out is Eve and the exact nature of their relationship. Miscommunication causes both of them to really look at it more closely. Bucky thought they were a thing, Eve thought they were strictly sexual. Too bad both of them suck at just saying that they're feeling. </p><p>To make matters worse, Bucky is now receiving advice about dating in the 21st century from Steve of all people. </p><p>Bucky will quickly learn what it is he wants, and he's not going to let something like Eve's commitment issues stand in their way. Eve isn't exactly prepared when Bucky learns how to play the game she hadn't realized she'd had a stake in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Doubts

**Author's Note:**

> In which Eve begins to doubt the idea of a successful friends with benefits.

            Eve slumps back in what has become her go-to side of the bed, breathing hard as she tries to steady both her breaths and her fast beating heart. Her cheek falls against the pillow so that she can gaze at the man lying back next to her.

            He is, as always, gorgeous. He’s basking in his post-orgasm state, sweat trickling down his temples and pasting long strands of dark hair to his skin. His hands, one bionic and one flesh, are resting against his deliciously defined chest, rising and falling with his own erratic breath. When his blue eyes notice her staring, his red lips quirk up into a smile. He rises just enough to peck her on the mouth and then on her forehead.

            “I’ll be right back,” says Bucky.

            Eve frowns—something that is a feat in and of itself considering she’s currently being graced with his glorious ass. It’s an ass that she finds herself envying from time to time and also the same ass that has motivated her to go to the gym _and_ skip her post-gym McDonalds trips. Even so, her frown is present as she reaches up to brush her fingertips across the spot that he had just kissed.

            Sex with Bucky Barnes is _amazing_ ; his incredibly eagerness never fails to make her feel a wanted, like a sexual being in command of her womanhood. He’s exciting, always willing to try knew things with her, to keep things fun and heated. Bucky is generous and considerate, unwilling to leave the bed (or kitchen countertop or shower or wherever) until she’s completely pleasured; he considers it an off-day if she only gets off once. He’s never fussy, either; he attacks her with the same hunger and lustful eyes when she’s in two-day old sweats and a messy hair bun that he does when she’s feeling a little naughty and dressed down in something lacy and frilly. Sex with Bucky Barnes is easy; it’s the other stuff that has her thrown for a loop.

            They haven’t seen each other outside of her apartment in months; it’s all a conflict of schedules between her school and nosy roommate and his saving the world. She tries to have _something_ of a social life on the days that she isn’t completely bogged down by school or her personal work, and he…he does whatever it is assassin-turned-superheroes do on their down time when they’re _not_ fucking coeds.

            As it stands, it’s all just sex. Bucky has never made a point of saying it is or should be anything more, and she hasn’t broached the subject either. She doesn’t need or want to; eve can barely commit to a nail polish color (today one hand is navy and the other is fuchsia because she changed her mind halfway through) much less a relationship. Their sex thing has worked—it’s worked _really, really well_ —and she likes it. Except her roommate had to go and fuck that up for her. Kayla didn’t know about Bucky, but she didn’t need to apparently to broach the subject thanks to the many friends had in common that had a similar arrangement.

            _“Did you hear about Karen and Mariah? Those two girls that look like they’re from the art department but then we ended up finding out they’re both in the engineering track? Yeah, well they were fuck buddies for two years—now they’re_ engaged _!”_

            _“Mandy and David, I swear to God, I_ told _them that it wouldn’t work out between them. You can’t be fuck buddies with a good friend or someone you see regularly—someone_ always _develops feelings! And now that Mandy is basically in love with him it’s so awkward for the group—literally everyone knows he’s been pining after Samantha since freshman year!”_

_“I’d say you wouldn’t believe what happened to Sid and Danica, but guess who just got together? Seriously—if you decide to settle down—don’t give me that look, it’ll happen eventually—just create a Tinder profile. Apparently friends with benefits is the way to go these days,”_

            There had been other instances sited and Eve had listened on with increasing discomfort as her roommate rambled on about how it was impossible to be in a sex-only relationship without someone starting to have feelings for the other person. At first Eve had been hard pressed to believe her; Bucky wasn’t exactly her first fuck buddy she had ever had, only the most… _unusual one_. Thanks to the chance encounter between them she’d been shot at and had failed two classes. Sex hadn’t been part of the equation then; it had only been about staying alive and trying not to kill each other in the process. Friendship had come during that time, one they both thought would come to an end; he was joining up with the Avengers, she had school and the life of a regular college girl to stumble through.

            Then he’d come to say goodbye to her and they’d ended up in a tangled mess of limbs and sweat and _so much heat_ and it had felt so good it had been an unspoken agreement that it would be happening again.

            _“And there’s always signs, too,” Kayla had said, pouring herself another glass of wine. “There are always signs. Like when you go from being just friendly to best friends practically over night—best friends who sleep together—and then suddenly someone’s trying to hold hands, they start kissing you tenderly, just the way hat they_ look _at you, you know?_

Eve had not known, no, and she wondered just how Kayla had, either. The girl had been with the same boy since she had been in the eighth grade in what Eve had always thought to be a very sweet, very vanilla (boring) relationship. Their friends often called them ‘goals’; Eve found herself fending off shortness of breath and heart palpitations of ever being stuck in such a relationship.

            Again, Eve reaches up to touch her forehead; she wouldn’t’ have thought twice about the action before, but now thanks to Kayla it’s a serious red flag. Even the slightest hint of affectionate action on Bucky’s part has her worried he’s suddenly going to drop down on one knee and declare his undying love for her. And it’s not that it’s him—Bucky is amazing, Bucky is wonderful, Bucky is infuriating, Bucky is exciting—it’s the very idea of a relationship that freaks her the fuck out. She groans out loud.

            “Everything all right, doll?”

            Bucky returns to the bed, crawling up her body and nosing his way up alone her stomach, between the valley of her breasts—he pauses to kiss the underside of each—and then up to her neck, his long and damp hair leaving ticklish trails.

            “Just sore,” she says, which isn’t _exactly_ a lie. Bucky smirks smugly at her, and she rolls her eyes.

            “Because of my work out, you dolt,” says Eve. Bucky hums, clearly unconvinced, and buries his face into her neck to lazily bite and lick at her skin. She shoves him off; he raises an eyebrow at her.

            “Don’t leave marks. I’m going out tonight and I want to wear my new top _without_ letting the world know I’ve been fucking all day,” says Eve. Bucky drops onto his side next to her, blue eyes drinking her in.

            “Ashamed of me, doll?” he asks playfully. Still, there’s a seriousness to his eyes that she doesn’t like, one she pretends not to notice.

            “Given that my friends don’t know or need to know about my sex life, I think a neck-full of hickeys _might possibly_ be a bit of a giveaway, even to my idiot friends,” says Eve. Bucky chuckles.

            “Might be. Still, I’d love to see their reactions,” says Bucky, though she’s not sure what he means by that. His hand has wandered over the sheet that is haphazardly thrown over her, his palm gliding slowly over her stomach. Her abdominals muscles clench at the contact, and his eyes jump up to hers.

            “You’ve been tense,” he observes. “Is this about your friends or is this about school?”

            Eve snorts, attempting to play it off. “School? Given that the two classes that I failed and oh-so mysteriously vanished off of my transcript oh-so coincidentally at the same time that the department received a very generous donation….well, I’m basically the department’s darling. Totally unrelated—Tony Stark is getting a _very_ nice Christmas card from me this year,”

            Bucky snorts, his fingers now tracing patterns into her stomach. She can’t identify the shapes, but they seem purposeful enough to feel like something with meaning. Perhaps they are letters, perhaps letters from the Russian alphabet. Whatever the message is, she tries not to dwell on it too hard.

            “Yeah, Stark did suggest something about repaying him with a calendar…I’ve got an idea he’s thinking something a little more risqué than a pinup girl calendar,”

            Eve glances over at him at that, eyes widening a bit in surprise. “I…does he knows what I look like?”

            “Given the circumstances of how we met, there’s a file on you. So yes,” says Bucky. He reaches up and tugs on one of her dark ringlets, watching it spring back into place. His eyes look a little flat when they meet hers again. “Please don’t tell me you’re flattered,”

            “I mean…” Eve shrugs and he groans.

            “Seriously, Eve? _Stark_?”

            “It’s funny to me is all,” Eve defends. It _isn’t_ weird how he’s touching her; they’re in bed and naked and she’s usually touching some part of him too. They’re just laying there, making casual conversation post sex. _It isn’t weird._ “When we’d get super stressed out about school—typically around midterms or finals—my friends and I would joke that we’d seduce Tony Stark into being out sugar daddies and be set for life,”

            Eve thinks about it a little more and can’t help but laugh. “And now here I am—he’s bribed my school and I didn’t even have to sleep with him. Can’t tell if I’m pleased or disappointed,”

            Next to her she feels Bucky tense at her words, and she realizes that it _is_ kind of shitty for her to be talking about possibly being disappointed at missing a chance of sleeping with another man—his teammate, no less—when she’s naked in bed with him. Even though there isn’t anything between them, it’s a little fucked up. She knows that had the situation been reversed, if he’d made some comment in passing about Black Widow, she’d be a bit missed about the thing, too.

            She feels like she has to say something. “I didn’t mean to—”

            “I know that you meant,” says Bucky smoothly, any trace of irritation or disapproval clear of his tone. She doubts him though, because she herself isn’t too sure what she meant by making the comment in the first place. He’s being cool—too cool?—and she feels his hand start to trail down to her hip a little firmer, a little more urgent.

            “You had plans with Captain America, right?” she asks. Bucky chuckles.

            “ _Steve._ I have plans with _Steve,”_ he corrects her.

            “Right. Him.” The idea of addressing Captain America by his first name is ridiculous despite all she’s been through over the past seven months. Almost as ridiculous as the fact that she’s sleeping with his ninety-nine year old best friend.

            “I did. I do,” says Bucky. His hand trails from her hip to grasp the curve of her ass and his strength easily allows him to handle her so that she’s flush up against him. His knee parts her legs and finds home between them as his lips start to attack her neck again, this time with more vigor. “But I could cancel,”

            Eve bites into her bottom lip, his ministrations starting to riel her up despite her growing reservations about this whole thing with Bucky. His hand is dipping dangerously low against her ass, and she tries to shift subtly against his hand to get him right _there._

            Bucky chuckles against her neck huskily. “Should I take that as a yes?”

            “No…can’t have you stand up C- _Steve_ ,” she says. “That would be rude,”

            “I don’t know,” says Bucky, pulling away from her neck to raise an eyebrow down at her. “If you’re thinking about fucking Tony Stark when I’m here in bed with you, I must have not done something properly,”

            Eve licks her lips, making sure to keep her tone light lest she stumble into a conversation that she wants no part in.

            “What can I say; sometimes I’m into younger guys,” says Eve. Bucky gawks at her for a moment, and then he’s laughing a bright, genuine laugh. The action causes her stomach to flutter awkwardly; seeing him laugh— _actually laugh_ is a rare sight.

            “And here I was about to suggest that Stark was _too_ old for you,” says Bucky.

            “Oh? And you’re just a spry young man of nearly a hundred?” asks Eve. Bucky leans in to lick the shell of her ear.

            “Do I _fuck_ you like an old man of nearly a hundred?” he asks. Eve shivers at his tone and the huskiness of it and thinks that, if how he fucks her is indeed how old men fuck, then she’s starting to understand the young women that flock around Hugh Heffner and his mansion.

            Eve cranes her neck a bit to catch sight of her alarm clock on her nightstand. Bucky uses the opportunity to assault her exposed neck. His hands part her legs so that he’s between them. The friction of his gently rolling hips against her are enough to make her resolve melt. At least a little.

            “Just be quick about it—Kayla’s getting back in just over forty minutes. I don’t know if you were planning on showering before you headed out,” 

            Bucky looks annoyed for the first time, and she isn’t sure if it’s because of the time limit or because he’s offered to cancel his plans and she hasn’t. He props himself up on hi elbows to look down at her.

            “You know, you could just introduce me to your roommate so I wouldn’t have to sneak out of here all the time,” he points out. Eve scoffs. That was _one_ time.

            “That was your fault for falling asleep and staying the night,” she tells him. “Don’t act like this is something you go home and discuss with your friends, either,”

            Bucky’s jaw tightens and she sees that he’s struggling with a response. Their usual hookup has dissolved into something awkward; it’s usually all fun and flirty and now they’re both just annoyed. Bucky seems to agree.

            She yelps in surprise as Bucky moves off her and flips her all in one motion—she’s on her stomach and with a face full of pillow before she can quite process the action. Then Bucky is manhandling her to her knees and his mouth is latched onto her neck and she can’t complain if he wants to work off his frustrations on her like this.     

            It’s hot and hard—her favorite—with the added exception of being over rather quickly. Bucky gets them both off faster than is necessary even with the time constraint she’s imposed, and she can’t help but feel that she’s being punished for something.

            It’s all over quickly and before Eve knows it she’s blinking at him sleepily, spent and sexually satisfied but still somehow _frustrated_ all the same as she watches Bucky yank his pants and shirt on. For a moment she thinks that he’s going to leave without another word, but then he perches on the edge of her bed, just turned towards her. She props herself up on her elbows to watch him wearily.

            “I’m leaving Wednesday night for… work,” he says, eyes guarded as he watches her.

            “Oh,” says Eve. She waits for him to elaborate further—how long he’ll be gone, where he’s going ,etc—and when he does she wonders if it isn’t because he’s annoyed or if it’s one of _those_ missions; super secret and need to know, scary. She frowns. When he’s away she tries to forget that he exists, that they have anything going on at all, because then she’ll start to fret over whether or not he’s hurt or worse.

            “Okay,” she finally says. “I guess I’ll see you whenever you back, then. Be safe,”

            The second the words are out of her mouth she can see they they’re the wrong ones to have said—though she ahs no clue why. Bucky nods a few times, and then he’s gone, an aura of brooding over him that she hasn’t seen in a long time. The door to her apartment doesn’t slam shut or anything, but the following silence is somehow worse.

            Eve doesn’t know what the hell to make of it all, and she starts to convince herself that she’s not at all the problem here, but his work is. He’s likely worked up over the upcoming mission is all. With that, Eve springs out of bed, trying to pretend that she’s still excited to go out with her friends tonight.

            Then she enters her bathroom to shower and catches sight of the huge purple mark on the side of her neck.

            Yes, definitely punishment.

           

 


	2. Bro Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's out on a mission but distracted by his thoughts about his 'thing' with Eve. Enter Clint and Steve for some much needed bro talk.

  1. Bro Talk



 

Yet another man dressed in tactical gear drops at a single punch of his, and even Bucky can’t deny that he’s on fire. Unfortunately the rest of his team hasn’t exactly been unaware of his excess energy and aggression.

            “Why the hell did we come along?” asks Clint as he breezes past. “We could have just sent in one-man-army over here,”

            Typically Bucky would have chuckled. He likes Clint and appreciates the man’s wit and sarcasm—but today he is finding humor in very few things. Actually, it’s not just today. He’s been in something of a mood for the past few days, and the cause of it of course has been Eve. Hazel-eyed, curly haired, mocha skinned, smart-mouthed Eve.

            Goddamn Eve.

            Shots fire down at them, and both he and Clint press themselves flat against the walls of the hallway to avoid getting hit. Hawkeye’s bow is in his hands in record time, but before he can get a shot off he curses; they’re _very_ outnumbered. Just as Bucky is about to remove his last gun from it’s thigh-holster— _bring them on, numbers be damned—_ Clint makes the admittedly wiser call. He shoots one of his arrows into the control switch at the left of the door just paces ahead of them.

            The metal doors slide shut, sealing off that hallway.

            Clint cocks his head to the side to admire his handiwork for a second. “Hope the shit we came here to get isn’t that way,”

            This time Bucky does chuckle, because he can never resist Barton’s casual deadpan for long. He motions the other man back to the door that they had just passed minutes previously, before a swarm of Hydra agents had attacked them. It looks like a lab and might perhaps hold the intel they’d come to seek and destroy. Clint nods, gesturing for him to take the lead.

            It is in fact a lab, and the place immediately sends his skin crawling. He doesn’t like labs, not at all, though Bucky is willing to say that he can’t be blamed for that particular, not after all the shit that Hydra has put him through.

            “Looks like this could be it,” says Clint. Bucky grunts in return, taking a stand by the door as look out while Clint starts to fiddle with the nearest computer. Electronics have never been his thing, and even Hydra didn’t think it necessary to give him a crash course. His objectives had rarely ever had anything to do with intel, only live targets.

            “ _How’re things looking on your end, guys?”_ Steve calls in through the comm. Bucky checks in to reassure Steve that they’re fine—he knows Steve worries about him—though he does admit that they’re pressed for time. Steve replied that he’ll bring the jet around, and before their connection severs Bucky hears the unmistakable sound of a certain vibranium Frisbee bouncing off bodies.

            “ _See you when you get back. Stay safe,”_

            There’s a certain similarity to Steve’s words that bring back the last words that had Eve said to him. That had been Friday night; today was Thursday. Nearly a week had passed, and yet Bucky can’t get them out of his head.

            He thinks of Eve often, Bucky supposes. He’s not sure what the appropriate amount is—the idea of ‘appropriate’ and ‘normal’ have been very skewed for him for a very long time now. But he does think of her; thinks of the feel of her smooth skin when he’s in the shower, of the striking contrast of her eyes when he’s running through the Park. Sometimes when Clint makes a snarky comment he thinks of the way her lips quirk up in silent amusement.

            Usually his thoughts of Eve tend to be sexual; at least ever since their ‘goodbye’ had turned into a ‘hello’ to sex. He’d lie awake in bed and start thinking of her and one thought would lead to another and suddenly he’d find himself in a cold shower. But he was also fond of her in a person.

            Bucky liked Eve, and how he’s starting to think that might be the problem. Over the past few months his general fondness of her has become something a little stronger, a little more defined. He finds himself thinking about more than just sex with her, but of the moments after, when they’re lying in bed together and she’s pressed to his side. He thinks on their conversations and the bits of information that she willingly divulges and those pieces he only gleans through careful observation.

            Bucky likes Eve but he can’t help but think that she might not feel the same about him. He’d thought they had a _thing_ ; that there was something between them, something more than sex. But reflecting on their last time together he isn’t so sure.

            “Barnes!”

            Bucky blinks a few times and realizes that that isn’t the first time that Clint has tried to get his attention. Barton is looking at him carefully, cautiously; Bucky almost rolls his eyes. He knows the other Avengers are all weary of him still and worry that he’ll slip back into the Winter Solider: Hydra Edition mode. His zoning out must have been a red flag to Clint, and Bucky can’t blame him. His frustration with his situation with Eve has made him more aggressive and distracted than usual.

            “I’m good,” he assures the archer. Unlike how the others might have reacted, how Bucky expects him to react, Clint simply nods once. It seems that Bucky’s answer is enough for him, and Bucky feels himself liking the man all the more for it. Because that, that right there, is trust.

            “Ready for a run to the roof?”

*

            “Everything good out there?” Steve asks once they’re all on the jet. Clint sets the bird into autopilot after making certain that they’re fully cloaked, and then turns to eye them. Bucky glances up at them once he feels their heavy gazes on them. He takes a seat on the bench, reaching up a metal hand to unbuckle and unstrap his vest.

            “’M Fine,” says Bucky.

            Clint is eyeing him, not bothering to hide his doubt. “You sure? You seemed to be working something out back there…and I don’t think it was Soldier related,”

            Bucky doesn’t answer, tossing around the idea of sharing what’s been on his mind with both men. Both are his teammates, but only Steve is his friend. Then he remembers how Clint behaved this past mission, and he decides that maybe Clint is his friend, too. Only problem is, he hasn’t talked to Steve about Eve either, and he’s not sure how to broach the subject now.

            Steve helps him out. His blue eyes are full of knowing as he nods over to him. “Does this have anything to do with Eve?”

            Bucky’s head snaps up at her name so fast it almost hurts. Bewilderment is written all over his face.

            “How—How did you— _why_ would you think…?”  
            Clint is sporting a shit-eating grin that Bucky doesn’t like the look of at all, and he takes a seat on the bench across from Bucky. His hands are behind his head as he leans back, the picture of ease.

            “So there is a girl? Should’ve guessed,”

            “So it is about her? About Eve?” asks Steve. He too makes himself comfortable, reaching up one hand to hold onto the latches up above. Bucky eyes both men unhappily, then sighs and sits back so hard against the quinjet wall that he winces.

            “So who’s Eve?” prompts Clint. Bucky would have never pegged him to be the gossip type, but now he think he knows why the man spends so much time in rafters and vents.

            “Eve Patterson…she’s the girl that got caught up with me before I got in with you guys,” Bucky says carefully. Barton’s eyes widen in recognition.

            “Wait—the college girl? Damn, Natasha was right. I thought you were too… _cold_ for to even start to think about that sort of thing, but Nat said you two were totally screwing. Don’t take it to heart; it took Steve _ages_ to get into bed with Carter,”

            Steve starts to protest; he and Clint begin to bicker good-naturedly. Bucky rolls his eyes. At first it bothers him that Barton and Romanov have been discussing the nature of his relationship with Eve behind his back. Then he reminds himself that they’re not out to get him, that they mean no harm. So he ignores that for now.

            “We weren’t sleeping together, actually. That didn’t happen until after you guys found me, when I went to say goodbye. After the Hydra threat was removed, there wasn’t an actual reason for us to keep in contact,” explains Bucky.

            “Until it became a booty call sort of thing,” chimes in Clint. He’s not exactly sure what the words mean, but Bucky can guess.

            “It’s all been pretty casual, but lately I thought there was some sort of unspoken… _thing_ between us, but after the last time I was over, I’m not so sure,” as he spoke, Bucky could feel himself becoming frustrated all over again. “And you know, she does all these things that just drive me crazy, you know?”  
            “Hold up,” Clint pauses him in his tracks, and stands to shuffle further down the quinjet. He kneels on the floor and reaches for a panel Bucky had never noticed before; when he pops it open, he has to snort. Clint grins as he pulls out beers and passes them out.

            “And Stark thinks he’s sneaky,” Clint says with a chuckle. He takes back his seat.

            “So what does she do, that drives you crazy?” asks Steve. He’s hesitant about opening the beer in his hands—Bucky knows it’s because he doesn’t think it quite proper, the mission isn’t technically over until they’re safely on the ground. Bucky shrugs and pops his beer open; they might as well. The serum in their blood prevents them from getting crazy anyway.

            What Bucky finds stranger than sharing a few beers on a quinjet post mission is the fact that both men are listening raptly to him, like what the has to say and what he feels matters. In retrospect his situation is rather silly. Yet he presses on.

            “She absolutely refuses to let any of her friends know about me. Makes sure not even her roommate knows she has a guy over,” explains Bucky. “ _Never_ wants me spending the night,”

            “Yeah, that sounds kind of bad,” says Steve. Then he frowns. “Are you sure she doesn’t have a boyfriend, or someone else? That she isn’t seeing other people?”

            Bucky’s jaw sets at the thought of Eve with someone that isn’t him. He’s never been the kind of guy to share, and he isn’t about to be that guy now.

            “She absolutely refuses to let any of her friends know about me. Makes sure not even her roommate knows she has a guy over,” explains Bucky. “ _Never_ wants me spending the night,”

            “I don’t think so,” says Bucky. “It was weird when I left last time. I told her was leaving Wednesday, and all she had to say was ‘see you whenever you get back. Stay safe’. Nothing about getting together before I left, or actual plans to see each other after— _nothing_ ,”

            Clint is frowning, considering the situation. “I don’t know, man, have you ever actually seen her outside of her bedroom since the sex has started?”

            Bucky’s mouth opens and closes a few times but no sound comes out. Now that he thinks of it, he hasn’t. They get together for sex, and that’s about it. Sometimes he just hands out in her room while she finishes an assignment—sometimes he even helps her—but it always ends in sex. Steve is eyeing him sternly.

            “C’mon, Buck—you haven’t even taken her out once?” The disapproval is evident there, and Bucky bites his lip and thinks hard. When they do eat, it’s usually at her place because Eve orders in.

            “Nope,”

            “Then maybe it’s a two way street. Maybe she doesn’t think it’s something, either, because all you do its…” Steve trails off. He clears his throat. “Just take the dame out for once, a nice, classy place. Somewhere where you make a reservation, where you gotta dress up. Guaranteed to work,”

            Cocking his head to the side as he thinks it over, Bucky doesn’t quite agree. He can’t for the life of him picture himself at a dinner table in some ritzy restaurant, and he can’t picture Eve there either, least of all with him. Them two, all dressed up, talking over a candlelit table? He doesn’t want that, not with her, not with anyone.

            “What is it?” asks Steve, noticing his expression. 

            “That sounds like something a couple would do, you know, boyfriend and girlfriend,” he finally cedes. Steve blinks at him, not quite understanding him. Clint lets out a bark of laughter.

            “Sounds to me what you really want is to set up some parameters around this whole friends-with-benefits thing,” he says. Steve looks put out.

            “So you don’t want to be her boyfriend?” asks Steve. “You don’t want to you know, start thinking of the future?”

            “Hell no, Stevie,” says Bucky. “Not ready for any of that. Doubt she is either; she’s still in school. I don’t want to be her boyfriend, but I like her, so I do want to be her friend. And right now I feel…I feel…”

            “More like her sex toy than anything?” says Clint.

            “Jesus Christ—that’s exactly it!” exclaims Bucky, because it’s finally in words. “I don’t wanna date the dame, but I wouldn’t mind going out with her, catchin’ a movie, normal friend stuff. But with the sex,”

            Steve is still looking uncomfortable, but Clint stands up and clasps him on the shoulder. “Let me guess; she’s really independent, doesn’t ask you for anything at all, likes to be in control…in and out of bed. You’re constantly fighting her…in and out of bed,” Clint smirks as Steve turns completely red. “And she’s really strong-willed?”

            “Your level of accuracy is starting to freak me out now, Barton,” Bucky says dryly.

            “No, no, it’s just I’ve been there before. Steve’s approach—it’s not gonna work. You have to play the game,”

            “Games end and then people get hurt,” objects Steve. Clint merely shrugs.

            Both men leave Bucky with a lot on his mind. Eventually they make it back to New York, and by the time the jet has landed he’s still mulling it all over in his head. He’s pleased he’s at least come to the realization that what has been lacking between him and Eve is friendship. Steve’s approach definitely seems the most straight forward: take her to dinner and talk it out. But he can’t help but think about Barton’s words either.

            Just before he steps Stark Tower, Bucky calls back to Clint, suggesting they have a few more beers before bed. Clint agrees, and Bucky heads out for a much needed shower.

* * *

 

            “Don’t give me that look, Cap,” says Clint as he and Steve walk into the Tower together.

            “I just think he needs something…stable. Not…” Steve trails off.

            “Hey, you can’t force or rush him into anything,” says Clint. “He’ll figure out what he really wants. Trust me; it’ll work out for him,”

            Steve eyes the master archer curiously. “Did for you? What happen to the girl?

            The smirk that split Clint’s lips was the smuggest Steve had ever seen on the man.

            “Work out? Rogers, I _married_ her.”

 

           

 

           

 

 

 

           


	3. Cookies and Heat Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve finally sees Bucky again post-mission and post-weirdness.

Eve has had a tough week and so she rewards herself with cookies. Lots and lots of chocolate chip cookies. If she’d been even mildly proficient in the kitchen she’d be eating a lot more than just cookies; she’s spent the past hour and a half scrolling through Facebook baking videos. But Eve is the sort of young woman that knows her limits, and she can very clearly recall that even at a young age she’d managed to start a fire with her Easy Bake Oven. So she settles on premade chocolate chip cookies (extra chocolate chip chunks, obviously) that she simply has to stick in the oven. That she can handle.

            For the first time in a few days (if she bothers to count properly, it’s since the last time she saw Bucky. She doesn’t. She blames her body in a different type of way for her irritability and frustrations) Eve is finally relaxed. Cookies are melting in her mouth and more are baking in the oven, filling up the kitchen with their sweet aroma. She’s bent nearly double against the small kitchen’s island, her elbows planted against the granite countertop with one hand holding up her phone and another reaching for her quickly diminishing plate of cookies. She starts humming along to the music blasting out of her speaker, head lolling to the side occasionally as she runs a hand over the sweaty apex of her shoulder and neck.

            “Did you turn the oven on, you complete psycho?!”

            At the shriek, Eve glances over her shoulder at Kayla. The blonde has just arrived home, blonde hair pasted against her forehead and neck as she wrestles a few shopping bags into the apartment.

            “Cookies?” says Eve around a mouthful of chocolate-goodness.

            “You’re a madwoman!” exclaims Eve, fanning herself with one hand as she kicks the door shut behind her. “We’re going through a damn heat wave and this apartment has no air conditionin’!”

            Eve shrugs. It’s not her fault she’s _this_ close to getting her period any day now and her body is rebelling against her by giving her raging cramps and a back ache. It’s not her fault either that cookies are the cure, or that it’s a heat wave in a late New York winter. They should be staving off snow and rain storms and slush, but instead it’s been steadily creeping up towards a stuffy eighty-something degree for the past day or so.

            That’s just completely weird, and while a lot of people have been screaming about global warming and green house gases and whatever the hell else, even meteorologists and scientists are baffled. Either way, that’s definitely adding on to the stress of the week.

            Kayla frowns, coming around to look her over. Her frown deepens as she watches Eve pull out the last batch of cookies and set them on the stove to cool.

            “You all right, Eve? You’re lookin’ a little down,” says Kayla, southern drawl thickening with her worry. “Have been all week,”

            Again Eve just shrugs. She sets her phone down against the flat of the island, quickly opening up one of those games that she hates so much. It’s simple and infuriating and practically impossible to actually move through the levels and the ads make her want to chuck her phone, yet it’s been on her phone for a few days now.

            “Oh dear, Eve’s got boy trouble,” says Kayla. Her heart skips a beat— _how the hell does Kayla know?!_ —and her head shoots up to meet the blonde’s knowing blue eyes.

            “Why would you assume—?”

            “Don’t play coy with me, missy,” smirks Kayla. “I saw you reposted a few things on Facebook—rare for you—and now you’re playin’ those games ya hate so much? You’re waitin’ on a text. It’s all so obvious now. I ran into Lewis yesterday after my dance class and he was all askin’ ‘bout cha and trying to find out if you were seein’ anyone. I told him he should text ya to find out,” Kayla said brightly.

            “Ugh, Lewis,” says Eve. She’d had a thing with Lewis almost two years ago, only there had been something of a messy parting: she thought they had been casually dating, seeing other people. He had not, and had been under the impression that she was his girlfriend. It had all gone downhill from there and –

            Eve pauses as she’s about to jam the thousandth cookie of the day into her mouth. She’s sort of starting to pick up a pattern involving her and her sexual partners. She’s a fucking writer; why is communication so goddam hard for her then?

            “You’re right, I am waiting for my phone to ring,” says Eve, smiling crookedly at Kayla Kayla squeals excitedly. “But from a literary magazine. I submitted a short story some time back,”

            Kayla visibly deflates, then smiles apologetically at her. “I mean, I’m sure they’ll get back to ya—I just—never mind,”

            Eve smiles in amusement at her roommate. Kayla is constantly torn between cheering her on for being a “modern girl who don’t need no man” but also encouraging her to be on the lookout for “the one”. She is glad, however, that Kayla has decided not to open that particular disgusting can of worms.

            Instead the southern belle bustles around the kitchen, making conversation as she put away groceries. She’s chattering about nothing in particular and Eve doesn’t bother to point out she can’t hear half her words as she moves around over the music. Her thoughts have returned to what she’d been trying to avoid.

            Bucky.

            She feels weird about how they left things last time, especially knowing that it was just before a mission. Eve wouldn’t go as far as saying that he’d be stressing over her during such a time; he’s proven to be a rather focused individual when he has a task at hand—but more than once, lying alone in bed as she tried to fall asleep, the though crossed her mind that if that was the last time she ever saw him it would crush her.

            She jerks out of her thoughts when a hand is placed over hers.

            “I’m headed out. My God-blessed, super hot boyfriend has AC over at his place and doesn’t know how to use an oven. His roomies are makin’ margaritas. You wanna tag along?” she asks. Eve thanks her and shakes her head.

            When Kayla is gone, Eve realizes that it really _is_ hot in the kitchen. She grabs her phone and speaker and plate of cookies and heads into her bathroom. She starts filling up the bathtub, not for first time thinking about how happy she is to have gotten the master bedroom with the adjoining bathroom.

            As the claw footed tub fills up with cool water, Eve opens up the little foldable side table she keeps nearby and places her speaker and cookies there. When she goes to fetch her book and catches sight of the clock she decides that oh hell, three in the afternoon isn’t _that_ early for a glass of wine.

            It’s just after she’s comfortably tucked into the tub that her phone vibrates. She makes quite a splash as she lunges to get it.

            _Let’s pretend I’m in the neighborhood and want to stop by. Are you home?_

She stares down at the text, a little impressed with it. It’s pretty casual, _and_ he’s given her an out if she wants. Instead of asking her if it’s okay to stop by, he’s giving her the option of simply telling him she’s out. She bites on her lip. She already knows what her answer is, she just doesn’t want to fuck up _how_ she says it.

            _I’m in the tub and you have a key_.

            She hits send, hoping that it sounds casual and a dash suggestive. Ultimately its up to him to interpret it, but she hopes that he takes it as is and they an pick up like last time didn’t get awkward or passive aggressively weird.

            When he enters the bathroom, he stares at her for a moment.

            “No bubbles?” he asks, corners of his mouth tugging upward. She stares back at him, wondering how this is going to go.

            “Nope,”

            For a minute he stands there. She’s not sure what she wants to happen right now, and he doesn’t look like he does either. She’s pretty she he’s here to talk, and though she does want to straighten things out with him to avoid any future weirdness, she also doesn’t actually to _have_ the talk. She’d rather skip to the part where it’s all resolved and they have sex.

            He opens his mouth to say something, and then thinks better of it. Instead his hands fall down to the belt at his hips. He catches her eye like he’s waiting for her to tell him to stop. She doesn’t. Her hand only tightens on her wineglass as she bites into the pillow of her bottom lip.

            She stares at him unashamedly as he peels off his shirt. Her eyes roam over his chest, over the juncture at which his bionic arm meets the flesh of his shoulder. He’s quite aware of her staring, but if it bothers him he says nothing. He steps out of his jeans and then his boxers. Now that he’s standing naked before her, she feels an odd flutter of disbelief course through her.

            How is it that this, this part man, part machine, part _god_ is someone that she sleeps with one a regular bases? She’s just a regular college girl—the most interesting thing about her is that she published that one thing, that one time—and yet here he is, a living piece of history, a man, a soldier, an assassin, a weapon, an honorary Avenger.

            All at once, Eve feels very foolish. She’s been stressing that _he’d_ have feelings for _her_ , simply because prior experience had taught her that might happen? He wasn’t like anyone else that she knew or had ever been with, and it was stupid to assume that things would be the same. No, now she felt foolish because she’d played into her own fears and read into his every gesture and nearly fucked it all up because she was an idiot.

            This was just sex, and she couldn’t forget that this was just as convenient for him as it was for her. She knew that he could be rather paranoid—that she couldn’t blame him for after all that he had been through—and he’d never be the type to walk into a bar and pick up a woman. He also didn’t strike her as the type to jump into a relationship, not with all the Avenging and whatnot he had to do. No, he might have been fond of her because of their shared history, but this was just sex.

            This little epiphany has her more relaxed, and Eve is all too happy when Bucky comes around the tub to stand behind her. She moves forward so that he can slide in behind her, and he does.

            “Jesus, Eve, ever heard of hot water?” says Bucky.

            “Bucky, we’re experiencing a goddam _heat wave_ —what next, you wanna turn on the oven?” she sasses as she leans back against his chest. She’s never taken a bath with him before—she’s never taken a bath with any man, before actually—and she quickly finds herself wondering why the hell not.

            The feel of Bucky’s hard body cradling hers is _amazing_. There’s something to be said about the feel of cool wet skin against cool wet skin, and she finds herself reveling in it now.

            “It’s getting taken care of,” Bucky says, reaching up and brushing her hair out of his face. She chuckled and then reaches up to take her afro of curls with a hairband. Once it’s wrestled into a topknot, she settles back against his chest. “Appreciate that,” he says teasing.

            Eve smiles. “You were saying? What’s getting taken care of?”

            “The heat wave,”

            His hands come around to rest on the edges of the tub. Noticing the bruises on his right hand, she takes it into hers, bringing it close to her face for inspection. It looks like he’d definitely punched his way through a small army. Then she realizes what he has said. She twists around a little to face him, jaw-dropping open.

            “Wait—the heave way, it’s getting _taken care of_? Like, you mean this is something up your…Avenger alley?”

            He smirks and nods once. “Yeah, but sorry doll. It’s classified,”

            “I don’t know that I want to know anyway,” she mutters, turning back to inspect his hands. She likes his hands a lot, both for different reasons. She’s never told him of course, mostly because if she ever does get that one short story, _Hands_ , published, she doesn’t want him to think it’s about him.

            Because it isn’t, of course. Like, at all. Maybe subconsciously she had been looking at his hands when the story had started taking root in her mind, but it isn’t _actually_ about him.

            Duh.

            “So your mission was a success? Or is that classified?” She asks lightly, brushing the pads of her fingers over the bruises and broken skin. “When did you get back?”

            “Success, yes. Classified…also yes. Got back last night,” he tells her. Mentally she perks up; he’d gotten back last night and come by today? Maybe he’d wanted to patch things up with her, too. “And I’m sore as all hell, which means you’ll be doing all the work,”

            She rolls her eyes as he unknowingly ruins that moment she had going on in her head and hums in agreement. “Should probably get to that soon, because I don’t know when Kayla’s getting back,”

            “Maybe we should talk first, about the last time I was here,”

            Just like that he dives right into it, and she tenses against him. He definitely feels it, because his hand gently pulls out of her hands and comes to rest against her stomach. It travels to rub circles under her breasts, though he never quite touches them. If he’d meant to relax her, he’s doing a shit job of it. Now he’s got her frustrated in a completely different sort of way.

            “Please, after you,” she says. Somehow she knows he’s rolling his eyes even though she can’t see him. Bucky tugs her body to lean against him again. She does. She’d been starting to feel cold anyway, and she appreciates the heat of his body.

            “Fine. I was upset when I left last time,” he says. His chin rests atop her head, and she thinks that the fact that she can’t see him head on is actually helping make this all much easier for her.

            “Uh-huh…”  
            “I was upset because I think we need to take a moment and define what this is,” he pauses for a moment, and she holds her breath. “I realize that you might have misconstrued what I wanted this to be, that I might have wanted something…that I might have wanted a serious relationship. Or an actual one. I know we haven’t talked about it, but I’ve picked up that you’re not to relationship type—and that’s fine. I wasn’t looking to start one with you. The sex is great— _real, real great_ —but I do like you enough that I don’t want just that. I want us to be friends, too,”

            Eve purses her lips. That can’t possibly be it. Is it really that simple? Has she really been worrying all this time for nothing? Is Bucky Barnes the perhaps the perfect man? Can she have her cake and eat it too? Admittedly, his speech sounds a little rehearsed, a little scripted, but she can’t find anything in the way he says it to convince her he’s lying. And why would he?  
            “Well, you’re not wrong,” she finally ventures. “I’m not in a place in my life where I want to be in a relationship. But I am a big fan of sex, and I’m a big fan of it with you. So, friends with benefits? We can shake on it,” she says, reaching a hand back towards him. He chuckles against her ear, and she shivers when his lips touch the shell of her ear.

            “I was thinking of sealin’ the deal a little differently…”

            She doesn’t stop him when his hand wanders down between her legs. And, twenty minutes later, when he’s using both metal and flesh fingers to make her come undone and his mouth his whispering dirty things in her ear she’s _glad_ they had this talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to take a moment to thank everyone who is keeping up with the story and dropped me some kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys are interested! This is my first fic of this nature and my first time posting on AO3...  
> Next chapter will be from Bucky's perspective! Stay tuned!


End file.
